Definition
by Phoenix Moon 13
Summary: When Wes has to sacrifice himself to save the world, Dawn decides that this time she won't accept losing someone she loves.
1. Living Without Definition

**_Definition_****_  
><em>****Chapter One: Living Without Definition**

Author's Note: This was originally written as a one-off, which is why the POV changes, then I decided to save Wesley! So I wrote four other fics in the series, but I've decided to group them together now to make one fic rather than five.

This is set after the season finales of _Buffy_ s.7 and _Angel_ s.4.

* * *

><p>I hadn't seen it coming. But I guess they didn't either. It's not like I saw my feelings for Buffy coming; they just sorta came out of nowhere and hit me right between the eyes. Looked like the same way for them.<p>

Niblet had gotton quite fond of books and that what with all the research she did with the First. And when she came to UCLA, she helped Wes out a lot with his books. Seemed only natural she would come to work with us in his department after college.

They were close, I could see that. I think both of them were a little underestimated and they both seemed quite tough.

I don't know why I wasn't more surprised to find them in a heated clinch by the filing cabinet of his office.

Maybe I had noticed the passion simmering in the air between them. Dawn had become quite the beautiful woman, so I could see the attraction for him. For her, I think she fell for him the moment he convinced Angel that she wasn't a child, that she had fought Bringers, to give her a chance.

He saw something in her that nobody else had noticed before, not even me; our Dawn was a woman. A strong woman with a wicked sense of humour.

I never knew Wes had a sense of humour, but apparently he did and somehow Dawn had coaxed it to the surface and it blossomed.

He became a good match for her.

And they loved each other, that much was obvious. Which is probably why I didn't protest against it.

But that kind of love... that kind of love always means that the fall… Well, the fall could break you. Trust me, I know.

So I should have listened to that sense of foreboding I had before we went into that big battle to save Angel from some insane cult type vamps.

I hear hindsight is always twenty-twenty.

* * *

><p>He had been drugged, according to Wes. Which explained why there was less of a struggle in the area we found Angel's duster. Fred tracked down a vampire cult, intent on bringing hell to earth. Like that ever ends well.<p>

So we suited up and went to save our great hero. In fact, it was Wes that dragged him out of the circle the vamps had drawn. But Wes was pretty cut up from the fight and the bloodletting had already started. I held the vamps off while he got Angel away. But their blood hit the edges of circle and before we knew it, a hole ripped open and a scream of air that tasted like death whirled out.

Dawn had been a few feet away, hacking furiously at two vamps. Andrew and Gunn took Angel from Wes. The rest of us backed away from the portal, even the vamps. The energy was… I wouldn't even have liked it had I still been evil. Dawn was the last to notice the swirling red and purple hole in the air.

But she was the first to notice Wes standing in front of it, contemplating.

She stumbled to a halt before him and grabbed his elbow, yanking him away from the portal.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Ending it," he replied.

They were too calm and he was too cold. I almost couldn't watch. But I was frozen, part of me waiting to drag them away from the portal should anything creep out. The others stood back watching with horror-struck fascination. Everyone seemed to have somehow accepted failure and were just waiting to see what would happen next. My foreboding grew until I could barely focus.

"What?" she cried. "No! Come away! There's gotta be another way!"

"The only other way is Angel. When I dragged him away, his blood mingled with mine and opened the portal. The only way to close it is for one of us to go through. It has to be me. The world needs him."

"And what about me?" her voice was tiny, cracked and tearful. "_I_ need _you_."

The ice melted and I saw the tears in his eyes as he pulled her to him.

"I know," he whispered into her hair. "I need you too. But there is no other way. I have to go. I have to save the world."

She pulled away, pushing him back and shook with fury and misery.

"Screw the world!" she screamed. "There's got to be another way! There always is! No, Wes. You can't do this. I won't let you!"

"I have to. There's no time for another way," he grabbed her elbows and gave her a little shake. "Don't you see? This isn't just about us anymore, this is about everyone. Everyone we know… The whole world, Dawn!"

"You're my world!" she yelled, fighting his grip but he kept hold of her. "I won't let you! You're everything!"

"How many years have you fought, Dawn?" he stopped her struggling and pinned her with his eyes, something in his voice begging with her. "How much did you give up for this life? You had a choice, but you gave up normality for this! You always knew it would hurt. You _knew_. This is how the story always ends. Someone always dies to stop the sky falling. You think this isn't hard for me? You think I _want_ to leave you?"

"I don't know," she whimpered.

"No! If I had a choice," his voice broke and tears welled in his eyes again, threatening to fall. "It would be you. But I don't have a choice. Please, Dawn, I need you. I need you to let me go."

"I can't."

"Please. If you do, if I know you'll go on, I can do this. Otherwise, I'll never be able to leave you. But I have to stop this, Dawn. Please."

She shook, avoided his eyes and I could see her breaking. Then she turned back to him. She straightened and her jaw lifted. I recognised that stance. She was no Slayer, but she was as strong as. After a moment, she nodded.

"You'll be a Hero," she whispered. "I'll never forget. I'll make sure no one forgets."

"I'll never forget," he answered and drew her into a kiss. I've never seen a kiss like that before or since. Everything they could have had it in one kiss. They played out their lives in that kiss and he gave her something to cling to.

But it was always going to be goodbye.

"I love you," she whispered. She moulded herself too him and buried her face in his neck and held on tightly, her tears staining his shirt. "I love you, I love you, I love you. I always will. I promise. I love you. I love you."

"I love you too," he answered, tears forcing out down his cheeks, but he forced a grin when she looked up at him. "Screw the world, I'm doing this for you."

"Are you going now?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," he replied, keeping her close as he smoothed his hand over her hair as he had done hundreds of times before.

"I don't want you to."

"I know. I don't want to either. But you understand?"

Something in the way he said it made me think he wanted her to beg him not to go, to force him to stay.

"Yeah," she pulled out of his embrace and swallowed. She walked back, their hands trailing between them. "See? I'm letting go. But I never really will you know."

He gripped her fingers tightly and I saw the fear in his eyes before he let go of her. She started to back away, turning away and he watched her go. It was killing him, anyone could see that. If he had a choice, it would always be her. Which is why he backed toward the portal.

The others stared at him. Fred was crying silently, seeming not to notice the tears. Lorne and Gunn had their heads bent, unable to watch their friend sacrifice himself. Andrew was biting his lip, eyes shining as he watched Dawn walk away. Angel was still unconcious. No one made any attempt to stop him. They all knew, deep down that there was no other way and if Dawn accepted it…

I went forward to meet her and she was only a few feet away when she cast one final glance back and saw him start to enter the portal. I could smell his tears, his yearning even from where I stood.

She screamed his name and whirled away from me, running back to him. I went after her, grabbing her around the waist and hauling her back. She strained forward, her body bent double over my arms. Screaming, crying, bargaining and begging.

I gulped hard because I couldn't miss him yet, not when I had to get her away. I made a promise years ago, to protect her, to save her. She continued to struggle, scream and cry as he disappeared. The portal closed slowly, zipping shut behind him.

"Wesley!" her grief-stricken howl petered out when there was no more murderous red-purple light.

She went limp in my arms. Her body relaxed and drooped.

She died in my arms that night. I felt her die as surely as hearing her heart stop.

* * *

><p>She's still here, six months later, preparing to battle some demon army trying to bring about yet another End of Days. She's become reckless because there's nothing left for her to live for now. I know she'll take risks because she doesn't care if she comes out the other side, because the way she sees it, there's nothing waiting for her. There's no future, no life without him. It doesn't matter to her anymore.<p>

For the first couple of months, she was hardened; going on and running the department like nothing had changed. She ignored her sister's attempts to get her to talk, eventually asking Buffy to leave. Which she did, after two weeks of Dawn telling her to go. No one else ventured to get her to talk and Angel avoided her.

She tortured a vamp to death a couple of days after Wesley's death. He was the only remaining vamp left from the cult. He also happened to be the very one who had sliced into Angel's stomach to draw the blood that opened the portal. The bloodletting that ending up with Angel and Wesley's blood mixing, opening the portal.

She had rammed boiling hot pokers though him. Kneecaps, neck, elbows, heart. I don't know where she got that idea from him. But I know she was being powered by grief and rage and that can do crazy things to a person. Look what happened to Willow after Tara died.

When she staked him, I found her staring at the building the vamp nest had been in. It was burning.

"Did it make you feel better?"

I had asked her.

"For about ten seconds. But he'll be dead just a little bit longer than that."

I remembered telling her a long time ago about trying to shoot Buffy. It was the summer that Buffy was dead and she had asked when I really _knew_. I remembered telling her that that was the night that I realised it was really love. I told her what I'd said to Harmony and she repeated it years later without taking her eyes from the burning building. It was an unspoken challenge.

Her eyes were dead and cold. I remember him saying that he loved her eyes because they changed. They don't change now. They're not even blue anymore. They're grey.

I hate them.

Angel gave up avoiding her after two months and apologised. For the first time since watching him leave her, she cried. I never knew a person could hold so much in for so long. I didn't even know someone could ache that much and Angel just stared at her until he finally touched her shoulder. She sobbed and screamed until I raced into the office and scooped her up. She beat her fists against me and howled.

She had burned with passion for him and the passion between them sparked with electricity. Now the passion was bitter and cold, painful and dead. The only coherent words were "Wesley. You left me. You promised." I rocked her, stroked her back and kissed her hair for hours and hours until I thought we could salt the earth with her tears.

When she stopped crying, there was a spark in her eye. They remained grey, but she seemed to remember her promise: "You'll be a Hero. I'll never forget. I'll make sure no one forgets."

She arranged a memorial, inviting everyone. He never talked much about his parents, but he must have confided in her because she invited his fuck of a father. She told me his father had never believed in him and a simple phonecall could send Wesley spiralling into a confidence crisis. But she made her point to Wyndham-Pryce Senior. She proved his son was a Hero.

And that spark remained; though tiny. It became clear to me that she only seemed to live for the fight now.

I'm scared I'll lose her in this fight with this demon army. I'm scared she'll die watching Andrew's back. Every time I think I don't want her to die, I remember Fred coming up to me when I watched her sleeping exhausted that night, murmuring his name:

"She'll be ok, Spike. She's strong; she's a fighter. She'll get through this. She'll live."

I remember looking up at her and shaking my head.

"I know she will. But by whose definition?"

I know now that she doesn't live by any definition at all.


	2. Grasping For Definition

_**Definition**_  
><strong>Chapter Two: Grasping for Definition<strong>

It was when Spike visited her in Wesley's old office that she realised she would never be able to hide it from him. It was almost funny that she actually thought she could hide it from him of all people. But, for a time, she had.

Until, finally, six months after Wesley died, Dawn gathered enough courage and control to go into his office for longer than a few seconds.

"Dawn, I want -"

Spike had stopped in the middle of the office as he looked up from a sheet of paper, gazing around the office as though suddenly realising where he was. And though she stood tall and confident, cool and collected in her heels, pencil skirt and silk blouse, he met her eyes and saw right through her.

And suddenly she was fourteen again; staring into an abyss as her sister was buried. But this time, when the vampire looked into her eyes and took her hand, he knew he was even more ill-equipped to cope with this than last time. Because something told him this was one thing she would never get over.

She had gotton over other deaths. No, _"got over"_ isn't the right phrase. She had coped, accepted and dealt with other deaths. She watched her mother, her sister and Tara disappear into the ground and she had cried. But though she never stopped missing them, she learned to live with their absence.

It was harder with Anya and Spike. Mainly because she couldn't remember ever telling Anya she loved her and she had never made up with Spike.

But the real thing that hurt her was that there was no grave for them. With her mom, Tara and - for one long, torturous summer - her sister, there were graves she could visit. Headstone's she could touch, lettering she could trace with a shaking finger, flowers she could arrange as she fought tears.

The comfort was that there was something there that told her they _had_ lived, they _had_ loved her. It took her a while to realise that the crater that had been Sunnydale was the same testimony to Anya, Spike and the dozens of Slayers that the graves of her family were.

That is, until Wesley called Buffy because he thought she "ought to know that Spike was back."

But what did she have of Wesley save for a few memories and photos? Nothing. No where she could go to stare at a headstone, just to prove she hadn't dreamed him.

If Dawn had her way, there would be a grave, Latin wouldn't be such a chore, her toaster wouldn't be so complicated and filing would take a split-second.

But then, if Dawn had her way, Buffy and Angel would get back together, Spike would make up his mind about Fred. And Wesley wouldn't have died in the first place.

* * *

><p>"… I'm telling you, Angel, no matter what you say, she ain't getting over it! She's a great little actress is our Dawn, but I can see right through her."<p>

"Spike, maybe she's not as bad as you think she is."

"Fred, listen to me. She's. Not. Getting. Any. Better."

"Don't talk to me like that," Fred snapped, glaring at the vampire. "Maybe you're not giving her enough space to move on."

"Will you two shut up!" Angel's voice was strained and Dawn peered through the crack in the door.

It was a bad idea, bringing Angel into this. If Angel thought Dawn wasn't doing so well, he would blame himself. The way he saw it, it was his fault that Wesley died in the first place and therefore all her pain was his fault too. It was starting to wear thin. Dawn was sick and tired of his guilt-stricken glances and measured tone of voice.

Though, anything was better than his tortured apologies.

His words had been simple and almost brutal in their simplicity. But they had the effect of sending her crashing to her knees, all resolve melting as it hit her that it was real. If Angel never said a word about it, never mentioned it, never apologised, then she could pretend it had never happened.

But with Angel's words, her final illusion left her and she was on her own. And without her illusions, what the hell did she have? What purpose did she have in her life? All she had now was translations, running her department and the constant pretence that _she was fine_.

She pressed her hand to the door and pushed it open, slicing the conversation off mid sentence.

"I was looking for the Ga-Shundi book of translations," she said. "I thought Fred might have borrowed it. But I'm kinda stuck mid-prophesy without it."

"Uh, yeah," Fred nodded and retrieved the book from beneath a pile of papers on the edge of Angel's desk. "here you go."

"Thanks," Dawn said, wrapping her arms around the book and hugging it to her chest like a teenager in Sunnydale High.

She paused for a moment, looking from one person to the other. Angel met her eyes for a brief second before lowering his eyes to inspect an imaginary stain on his shirt. Fred glanced at Spike and slipped her hand into his, attempting to smile at Dawn. Only Spike kept his face set, staring at her, trying to figure her out.

"Well, I'll see you later," she said after a silence, turning to leave. She paused, glancing back at them. "I'm fine, guys, really."

Spike waited until she was out of the office and halfway back to hers before turning to Fred and Angel.

"See?"

* * *

><p>Dawn closed her office door tightly and leaned against it. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and sighed. She pushed away from the door and dropped the Ga-Shundi book of translations on the desk. Her fingers lingered on the edge of the desk, squeezing it tightly, wondering how hard she would have to try to break it.<p>

"I was starting to wonder if you were ever coming back."

Dawn jumped, grabbed a silver paper knife and whirled around to face the owner of the voice. She frowned, seeing no one. Slowly, a woman stepped out from the shadows. Dawn stared at her, slowly took in her elegant attire, the perfectly styled hair and scarf around her neck.

"You're a lawyer," Dawn stated, recognising the look.

"A dead lawyer," the woman replied with a shrug.

"What do you want?" Dawn asked wearily. "Do you know how much work I've got to do? I've got to translate this stuff Fred found in the archives. And I've got to check all the stuff the company translators have done. And let me tell you, Ga-Shundi isn't my strong point."

"Wesley was always good at Ga-Shundi," the woman said softly, almost wistfully.

Dawn's grip tightened on the paper knife with one hand as she gripped the desk again, this time for support.

"What?" she said, the word snapped, hard and full of warning.

"You think you're the only one who knew him?" the woman asked, turning to look Dawn in the eye.

"You knew him?" Dawn repeated. "When?"

"Not in this life," the woman shrugged. "Mostly because mine's over," she gave a short, bitter laugh. "He wouldn't remember me. He's spoke to me countless times since he came to work her. As far as he's concerned, I was just a lawyer that he spoke to on a few occasions before she was killed in a massacre in this very building."

"And as far as you're concerned?"

The woman ignored her question.

"My name's Lilah Morgan," she said instead. "And of course, I know who you are, Dawn Summers. I heard you, when he died, I could hear you screaming when I was in my office," the woman glanced pointedly at the floor. "And that's a long way down. I actually thought you might put all that passion to better use than work."

"Get out of here," Dawn hissed, pointing the paper knife at Lilah threateningly. "If you know who I am, you'll know I'm pretty famous around her for what I did to a vamp_ after_ he died. And I can think of several things to do with this right now."

"He always liked girls with fire," Lilah commented. "Look, I'll cut to the chase, shall I?"

"Good, I was starting to think I'd have to cut to you," Dawn sighed.

"You're sharp. I almost like you. I'm here to tell you that there is something you can do."

"About Wesley?" Dawn asked, fighting tears because this wasn't _fair._ "Get out. Just go. He's dead, gone. He's never coming back and I might _never_ get over it, but I can't change it."

"Who's asking you to change it?" Lilah asked, looking genuinely perplexed.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you know three people who have gone through portals," Lilah replied evenly. "Think about the differences between them. You'll work it out. Now, I've gotta go. My boss is gonna give me Hell for even speaking to you. Not that he doesn't give me Hell every other day of the year."

Lilah turned to leave, but Dawn darted forward, grabbing Lilah's arm.

"Why are you telling me all this?"

Lilah shrugged and gave Dawn a sad smile.

"Because I loved him once," she whispered, before pulling away from Dawn and leaving the room as silently as she had come.

Dawn blinked and watched her go for a moment before snatching up a pen and a notepad.

"Three people I know who have gone through portals," she muttered, tapping the pen against her chin, before starting to write.

_Angel._

_Buffy._

_Fred._

"Differences," she mused, staring at the names. "There are no differences. They all came back…" she frowned, suddenly seeing the difference. "Buffy came out the other side," she murmured. "That's how we could bury her. But Fred and Angel, they didn't come out the other side, they stayed in the dimension."

The pen tumbled to the desk with a loud clatter as Dawn turned deathly white and twisted her fingers to stop them shaking.

"Because they were both alive."


	3. Looking For Definition

**_Definition_**  
><strong>Chapter Three: Looking For Definition<strong>

Her gaze flickered up frequently to the door of the arsenal. She grabbed another crossbow and bundled it into a bag, checking the reinforced windows that looked into the room. She looked down at what she had collected so far and nibbled her lip. Perhaps she ought to swap that long stake for an axe? She hesitated, the stake in one hand, the axe in the other. With a sigh, she dropped both into the bag, zipped it up and ducked out of the room, yanking the door hard to make sure it locked.

She glanced around, realising that it made her look more suspicious, but somehow not caring. She stepped into the elevator, not holding it for the lawyer that stumbled toward the closing doors with arms full of paperwork.

Dawn had been looking for three weeks. Three weeks of neglecting her work in favour of research on portals. And the day before yesterday, she had actually found the incantation. She remembered translating the final line and just staring at it.

All the books she needed that she had ordered specially, from all continents and various other dimensions. All of it had led to this.

In half an hour, she would be gone, as cliched as that sounds, leaving only a brief note on her desk for the others to find.

She stepped out of the elevator and in a few strides was outside her office, she went in and closed the door behind her, dropping the bag of weaponry on the couch. She grabbed the book she needed with outgoing incantations, placed it beside the bag on the couch, and picked up another bag from under her desk.

She went into the little bathroom in her office and changed. Replacing her silk blouse, fitted skirt, pointed shoes and expensive stockings with heavy jeans that weren't too tight for fighting, a loose sweater and battered sneakers. The elegant hairstyle was pulled down and pulled back into a loose ponytail. She scrubbed the make up from her face and patted it dry.

When she looked up into the mirror, she was surprised at how young she looked.

Dawn was twenty-three and for a moment, she was seventeen again, in the summer after the destruction of Sunnydale, bringing Wesley a cup of tea before curling up on the couch in his office to listen to countless tales of myths and legends.

Occasionally, she would think there was something in his gaze that wasn't just friendly and grateful for her help in the office. Sometimes, when she lay in her room in the hotel Angel had kept on for a little while, she thought about that look. And sometimes, just sometimes, she would allow herself to name it. To call it lust, or want, or need.

And just occasionally, love.

Deep down, that was the real reason Dawn wanted to come to UCLA. She had told her sister that she wanted to go there because she wanted her independence, because she had lived in the city for years. And because she had been offered a job at Wolfram and Hart that meant Buffy wouldn't have to give up her hard earned wages.

But really, secretly, it was Wesley that Dawn longed to see. And even now, she remembered that burst of joy when, two weeks after she started at UCLA, she went to start her part-time job at Wolfram and Hart and discovered that she would be working with Wesley.

It was then that she thought perhaps his looks weren't all in her imagination, even if they had been last summer, but it wasn't until her twenty-first birthday that he finally kissed her.

Their relationship was kept secret, until after she quit college because "Buffy, what's the point? I've decided I want to stay at Wolfram and Hart and great as UCLA is, it doesn't offer Summerian or Ga-Shundi." Spike walked in on them and for some reason, was happy about it and it was around Wolfram and Hart in days, until Angel thought Buffy ought to know.

Dawn blinked, the spell broken and she was just a twenty-three year old woman, tumbled out of her adult clothes and make-up, the break-up of her two-and-a-half year love affair stealing the colour from her cheeks and the sparkle from her eyes.

She shrugged her shoulders back and picked up her clothes, laying them over the couch. She unzipped the leather bag of weaponry and gently placed the book of incantations into it. She picked it up, easing it onto her shoulders before pushing the folded note addressed to Spike into the middle of her desk. She turned the lights off and closed the door of her office behind her.

Then, she strode down the corridor to the elevator, ignoring the surprised frowns of other associates. She rode the elevator down to the car park and climbed into Wesley's jeep.

With a hard gulp, she started the car and headed toward the one place where she knew instinctively the portal would open.

The place where Wesley had died.

* * *

><p>"So, what are we doing tonight?" Fred asked, a giggle edging into her voice as she met Spike's eyes.<p>

"Dunno, love, I thought I'd get you a taco and a good movie," he replied, only looking up briefly from a bubbling test tube of bright blue liquid.

"But we did that last Friday night," she protested, watching as Spike switched his attention from the blue liquid to a bundle of dried herbs marinating in a dull red mulch.

"'S'why I'm dating you, in't it?" he said, finally giving her his full attention with a broad smile.

"You callin' me a cheap date?" she accused, poking a slender finger into his chest.

"That's the best kind," he told her sincerely, sliding his arms around her waist. "'Cause there's nothing to hide behind. None of that candlelit rubbish. You and me aren't built for that."

"And what are we built for?" she asked, trying to keep the teasing smile from his face.

"Do I have to spell it out for ya, Slim?" he asked, thumbs moving gentle circles on her waist.

"Mmmm," she said, pulling away as she reached for the goggles on a nearby bench. She slipped them on and turned away from him, checking the temperature of one of her experiments.

"'Mmmm'?" Spike repeated, eyebrow raised. "What's that mean, Fred?"

"That I don't believe you," she replied mildly.

"Don't…? What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

"That I don't believe you," she rolled her eyes. "That we always get to here, this point, but then it all cools off and we're back to square one again," she looked up again, blinking at him from behind her goggles. "Is it me you really want, Spike?"

"It's not that simple, Fred," he sighed, sinking into a chair and dropping his head into his hands. "I like you, you're a great girl. Gorgeous, funny, understanding. All of the above. But… I made a promise to a lady," he shrugged, looking up at her. "Years ago, to take care of -"

"Dawn," Fred finished in a whisper. "You're still worried about her."

"Yeah. I can't seem to think about anything else except how to take care of her."

"Then we'd better go take care of her then," Fred said gently, extending her hand.

Spike took it, with a pleasantly surprised smile. He allowed her to guide him out of her laboratory and past Angel's office towards Dawn's.

* * *

><p>Angel watched them go past and sighed. He knew where they were going. He stared down at the number neatly written on a card in his Rolodex. He reached for the phone got his finger halfway to the first number when he thrust it away from him.<p>

"Twelve," he muttered, rolling his eyes at the number of times he had attempted this.

He shifted uncomfortably, then flexed his fingers before dragging his phone in front of him. He dialled the number before could change his mind and balled his free hand into a fist as he waited.

"Hello?"

"Er, yeah, hi. Is Buffy Summers there?" he asked.

"Uh, sure, hang on. Hey, BUFFY!"

He winced as the teenage Slayer's shriek rang down the phone and he only opened his eyes again when Buffy came to the phone.

"Hi, Buffy Summers here."

"Hi, Buffy. It's me," he paused, before clarifying with. "Angel."

"Angel," she repeated, then her voice started into worry. "Is it Dawn? Is she all right? Nothing's happened, has it?"

"No, no. Nothing's happened. It's just… Lately, I've been talking to Spike. He doesn't seem to think she's coping so well. And… I think he's right. She's behaving normally, just…"

"Not like Dawn," Buffy finished quietly. "I'm on my way."

Angel's fist open and he pressed it flat into the arm of his chair, trying to keep his voice calm and distant.

"No, I didn't mean that you should come all that way. I just thought you could call her, give her some… sisterly advice."

"Angel," Buffy said firmly. "She's my sister. I'm on. My. Way."

"Oh, right," he nodded, fighting the smile that threatened to break out on my face.

"But don't tell her, she'll freak," Buffy said. "And - wait a minute - Bonnie, will you put that battle axe down! It's not a toy; it's an antique! Sorry, I was just going to ask you to keep an eye on her. I'll be there as soon as I can. I'll leave in a half an hour."

"Right. Well, I see you then… then."

"Yeah," he heard the slight smile in her voice and couldn't resist a small smile himself. "Goodbye, Angel."

"Bye, Buffy."

* * *

><p>"She's not in there," Andrew said dully, pushing away from the wall he leaned against as Fred and Spike approached.<p>

"She might be in the bathroom," Fred said, sliding her card through the automatic lock and opening the door.

She turned the light on and looked around.

"What's her clothes doing here?" Spike asked, pointing to where her clothes lay forgotten on the couch.

"Spike…" Spike turned looked over at Fred, then his gaze dropped to the note in her hand. "It's got your name on it," she said.

He took it from her, frowning as he read it. Andrew and Fred exchanged looks, both feeling foreboding crawl up their backs.

The note contained a quick explanation, saying they probably wouldn't see her for a while. Something about a portal, but not which goddamn portal or for what goddamn reason. Oh, and if she wasn't back in three days, there was a list of books that the note said would help them find her.

But apparently, they shouldn't bother.

He looked up, screwed the note into a tight ball with barely suppressed anger and looked up to see Fred skimming through a pile of files on Dawn's desk.

"She's gone!" he shouted, throwing the note to the floor. "Through some fucking portal for no fucking reason."

"Spike," Fred cut in.

"Gone?" Andrew echoed, voice rising in panic. "Gone where? Why would she go anywhere?"

"Well, obviously there's a reason, but Miss Independent figures we're not worth telling -"

"Spike," Fred said again, voice shaky.

"What?" he asked, voice snappish as he strode toward her, followed by Andrew, and peered over her shoulder at the small scrap of paper torn from a notebook resting on a pile of untidy translations. There were only a few simple words scrawled hastily in Dawn's handwriting.

_Angel_

_Buffy_

_Fred_

_Buffy came through the portal_

_Angel and Fred didn't because THEY WERE STILL ALIVE_

"Oh no," Spike muttered. "She's gone for Wesley. That's the portal she meant," he snatched the note up from the floor and smoothed it out on the desk. "Fred, find these books she's got listed here. Stupid bint. Are they her notes? Look through them, Andrew, find something. Anything."

"Where are you going?" she called after him as he went to leave the office.

"Angel," he replied shortly.

* * *

><p>"Angel," Spike cried, running into his office. "C'mon, we've gotta go."<p>

"What's wrong?" Angel asked.

"It's Dawn. She thinks there's a chance that Wesley might still be alive because you and Fred went through a portal and didn't come out because they were still alive -"

"Spike, breathe," Angel cut in.

"Angel, I don't fucking breathe!" he roared. "Now you listen to me. Dawn. Has. Gone. Dawn has gone through a portal. To save Wesley. Who is in a Hell dimension. Who is dead. Who she knows is dead. But who she has still gone to save. We have to stop her. Are you getting the picture?" Angel stood up and grabbed his coat.

"I'm driving," he said shortly.

"And driving where, hot shot?" Spike demanded.

"Where would you open a portal that was last opened only seven blocks from this very building?"

"Oh."

* * *

><p>"There she is!" Spike shouted, opening the door of the car as Angel swerved the car with a screech. Spike launched himself out of the car and hit the ground running. Dawn stood in the centre of four candles, one at each compass point.<p>

"Dawn!" Angel called, leaping from the car and racing after Spike.

Dawn glanced back, a stricken look on her face and turned her back to them, chanting vigorously as the air wavered in front of them.

"Dawn, stop that this minute," Spike ordered.

Angel reached Dawn first, but as he reached for her shoulder, she slashed a dagger decisively down her palm and as blood dripped from her hand, a hole ripped in the air and he staggered back. Dawn glanced back at him and Spike before reaching for her bag of weapons.

"No!" Spike yelled, jumping forward and grabbing hold of her, dragging her back.

"Get off!" she screamed, struggling in his arms. "Get off me! Spike! Let me go! Let go of me!"

He let go of her abruptly and stared at her.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "It's just… I need you - both of you - to turn around and walk away. Let me do this."

"No, Dawn," Angel said softly, though loudly enough to be heard over the low roar of the portal. "This is suicide. We can't let you. I've called your sister. She's on her way here right now. What am I gonna tell her when she arrives and you're not here?"

"Tell her I'm doing what she would have done if she had thought there was even the slightest chance you were still alive when she killed you."

"You didn't kill him," Angel said softly.

"But I didn't try hard enough to stop him, did I?" she replied bitterly. "You're not going to stop me. This is something I have to do."

"No! This is something you can't do!" Spike cried.

"What about Buffy?" she demanded, turning to face the two vampires fully. "When Buffy died, her body came out of the portal. We buried her. You should know, Spike, you spent some time every night for a whole summer there. Sometimes all night. And you, Angel, that grave sent you to some monastery in Sri Lanka for three months. Did it help? Did it? 'Cause if it did, tell me you've still got their number, 'cause I sure as hell need it."

"It didn't," he answered, lowering his gaze from her eyes.

"I knew it," she replied softly. "And what if she hadn't come through that portal? What if we hadn't seen her body? What if someone had said to you that there was a chance - not a big chance though, but still a chance - that she was still alive? Would you have figured that meant there was a bigger chance she was dead and walked away? Or would you have done everything in your power to get to her? That's what you would've done, isn't it?"

The vampires exchanged glances before looking back at Dawn and nodding.

"Yeah," Spike admitted.

"That's what I'm doing," she explained gently. "If he's still alive, I've got to save him -"

"And if he's not?" Angel asked abruptly.

"If he's not…" Dawn glanced at the portal and shrugged, her voice the merest whisper. "Then maybe this is the closure I needed. If by doing this I find out he really is dead, then I guess I'll have to be strong because I'll have no other choice. At the moment, I do have another choice. And this is it. I'm not asking you guys to give me your blessing in this; but I am asking you to understand. You've both loved someone enough to die for them, all I'm asking is that you understand that I feel the same way about Wesley."

They exchanged another look before Spike reached for her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Then his hand slipped down and unzipped the bag on her shoulder. Dawn froze, waiting to see what he would do. Without looking away from her, Spike pulled out a short battle-axe that he tossed casually to Angel and then a long stake for himself.

"Hell's a lonely place," he told her, glancing over her shoulder at the portal as it steadily grew. "And we're not about to let you leave with half the company arsenal."

"What -?"

"We're coming with you," Angel clarified.

She swallowed the desire to argue and nodded decisively, turning to the portal.

"I used my blood to open it," she stated matter-of-factly. "I didn't need the blood of a Champion because I'm the Key. I'll go through last to close it."

Spike shrugged and stepped through, the portal buckling as he did so. Angel swiftly followed and Dawn watched them both disappear.

She gulped hard and gripped the strap of her bag, pulling out a crossbow.

And then Dawn Summers did what she had been planning to do for three weeks.

She jumped through a portal and exchanged one Hell for another.


	4. Finding Definition

_**Definition**_  
><strong>Chapter Four: Finding Definition<strong>

Dawn tumbled gracelessly to the ground, her cheek and hands hitting the ground hard. She looked up and saw the portal zip shut. She shivered, Spike's hand clamped around her elbow, yanking her to her feet. He ran a hand quickly over her shoulders, checking for damage. She shrugged him off a little, but he caught hold of her chin and turned her face side to side. He tutted.

"What?" she asked, pulling his hand away.

"You've cut your cheek," he muttered, shaking his arm so that the cuff of his shirt dangled past the sleeve of his duster and he wiped the spot of blood away.

"Thanks," she said, smiling a little.

Then she stopped, staring around. They had landed on a large flat plateau, behind her, the drop was sharp, a drop into a swirling black sea. In front of her was a crown of tall spiked rocks, reaching to the thick purple sky, split by the occasional streak of silver lightning crackling through the air.

"Wow," she breathed, turning to face the sea that stretched to the horizon. She gulped, stepping back away from the edge as something large and black arched out of the sea and sank back in again. "But not in a good way."

When she looked back toward Angel and Spike, Spike was gripping Angel's upper arm and glaring at him.

"What's wrong?" she asked, coming back toward them.

"Nothing," Spike snapped immediately, giving Angel a warning look and a tiny shake of his head.

"Angel?" Dawn turned to the taller vampire, grabbing hold of him to pull him away from Spike's grasp. She saw Angel's gaze rest on her for a second, before flickering to Spike and then over to the row of rocks.

She followed his gaze and her fingers dug into his forearms as her knees shook. The person watching them from a distance ducked down behind the rocks.

"No," Dawn whispered. "No. Wait!" she shoved Angel out of her way. "Stop! _Wesley_!"

* * *

><p>He ran.<p>

The lightning had crackled, snapping violently through the air time and again. It had drawn him toward the row of rocks and he clambered up to see a tall man tumble through a portal. Followed by a slender bleached blonde.

Then a beautiful brunette. He couldn't have left if he wanted to at that point.

He remembered when he first arrived here. How he had lain on the plateau for ages until he forced himself up, scooping up his sword. He had peered down into the tumultuous sea, heaving, thick and black. He had backed away, stumbling as he hit the incline. He turned then, away from the empty scene before him to claw his way up to the rocks.

Only when he got to the top, there was nothing apart from twisted caves and pathways as far as the eye could see. He had slumped against one of the sharp rocks and sobbed. Then he had eased himself down the cliff face, found himself a fairly dry and mercifully empty cave and waited, hand on sword, for something to attack, anything to distract from his current situation.

Then, when nothing came, when countless investigations told him that there was no other living thing here apart from himself, he waited for someone to find him.

They never came.

And then he found something else to worry about.

The screams.

The first one woke him from a fitful doze. He never found the source of the screams.

But he soon found out why they screamed.

Not screams of pain, they were sobs, cries of anguish and pain.

It could have been hours or it could have been days, he never knew. All he knew was that a little while after he arrived here; Spike sauntered into the cave. Whispering about how thankful he was that Dawn could get on with her life now. So glad _he_ could be the one to help her get over it.

Then there had been Fred.

Angel.

Gunn.

Andrew.

Dawn.

It seemed whatever controlled these mirages knew it had found the perfect torture in Dawn. And there were so many different ways to use her.

_"You think I'd try and find you when you _chose_ to do this?"_

_"I'm fine, Wesley, you don't have to worry about me. I'm over it. Really over you..."_

_"I thought you should know. I've… found someone else. I know it's only been a few weeks, but Andrew's been good to me. I'm in love with him. I think he's the one. Are you happy for me?"_

Then he knew why they screamed.

And he screamed too.

He shook away the image of her face, sliding down the cliff-face, tearing his sweater. He ran down the uneven tracks and threw himself into his cave. He stumbled, felt blood ooze from his knees as he crashed into the ground, but he pulled himself up. He reached for the wall, guiding himself through the dark to the end of the cave. He curled into the corner and drew his knees up, grabbing his sword.

He heard, distantly, a yell as either Angel or Spike crashed into the ground after descending the cliff. He pushed himself back into the corner.

It was ridiculous really, that he thought he could hide from them. He remembered the first time, how afterwards he found another cave. But Fred found him; hunkered down and told him that things were fine, no one noticed he was gone, good job they had her and Dawn to take over after he disappeared.

It never mattered how far he ran, how well he tried to hide, how hard he pressed his hands to his ears, they always found him, always made him hear.

"Wesley?"

He heard Dawn's yell, felt his throat tighten as he pressed into the wall, the rough stone scratching through his sweater.

"Go away, go away, go away, go away," he chanted.

"Wesley?" he heard Spike yell, then Angel and each time they sounded closer.

That was new, the way they seemed to be trying to make him come to them. But it's ruthless nonetheless and he wants none of it.

But he has no choice, he has never had any choice in these mirages and Dawn is the first to appear in the mouth of the cave.

"Wes?" her voice has grown tentative, the way she used to talk to him when he was in a bad mood or had a headache. It always made him feel guilty and he would hug her to prove he was just a grumpy old man and that it had nothing to do with her.

He resisted the urge to hug her now.

He heard the heavy stomp of Spike and Angel and stared up a them as they reached the back of the cave and looked down at him.

Spike's expression was curious, possibly even suspicious, as though he was trying to figure him and the whole situation out. Angel's expression was unreadable, an odd mix and guilt, relief and for some reason, something that looked suspiciously like disappointment in the man huddled at his feet.

"Wesley?" Spike asked, reaching out a hand to help him up.

Dawn pushed between the two of them, her face lighting up with a huge grin. She came toward him and he grabbed his sword, thrusting it between them to keep her at bay. Her smile faltered, her eyes widened and Spike and Angel exchanged glances.

"It's me," she whispered, starting to crouch down and stretch out her hand to him. "It's me, Wes. It's Dawn."

He shrank away from her, using the sword as a barrier to keep her hands away. She couldn't touch him. She never touched him before. It didn't work like that.

"It's me," she said, frowning, reaching for one of his hands. "It's me, I'm here. Wesley?"

"Get out," he managed hoarsely.

"Hang on a minute, Percy!" Spike protested.

"Get out!" Wesley repeated, voice rising. "Get out! I'm not listening! Do you hear me? I'm. Not. Listening."

"What?" Dawn directed the question to the vampires behind her.

"It's us, Wes," Angel said. "You know us."

"I don't," he replied firmly. "Get out. You can't do this to me anymore."

Dawn stood up sharply and backed away, into Spike who stumbled a little into the wall of the cave. She stalked past him, shoulders stiff and head high.

Angel gave Wesley an odd look, disbelief mingled with that disappointment, before following Dawn.

Wesley pushed his fingers into his hair, grabbed two fistfuls and squeezed. When he looked up, it was to be faced with Spike's look of venomous anger.

"Look," he hissed, hunkering down to sneer into Wesley's face. "What's your problem? How _dare_ you do that? There's no way I'm letting you break her heart after everything she's done to get you back. Now, I played along with your whole Lolita fetish for while, but -"

The sword clattered to the floor as Wesley's fist connected sharply with Spike's jaw, knocking him over as Wesley lunged. He pinned the vampire to the floor, fists in his shirt.

"Lolita?" Wesley hissed. "You don't have a clue, you sick -"

He stopped, hands suddenly relaxing their grip on Spike's shirt, bringing one slowly to his face to stare in the dim light at his reddened knuckles then at Spike still sprawled, pinned and glaring on the floor.

"My God," Wesley muttered, "I touched you. You're real. Then she's...?"

* * *

><p>"Dawn! Dawn, wait!"<p>

"Wait for what, Angel?" Dawn shouted, turning sharply to face him. "Wait for Wesley to act like I'm the Devil incarnate again?"

"Calm down," Angel grabbed her shoulders. "He didn't mean it."

"Y'know," she took a deep breath. "When I was researching this whole thing, I actually thought that seeing him again would be… I don't know, just… not like that. I pictured running into each other's arms, kissing. Tears, even. Not that. What the hell _was_ that?"

"I don't know, but I do know he didn't mean that."

"How do you know?"

"Because this is Hell, Dawn," he answered simply. "And I know a thing or two about Hell. Don't you remember what I was like when I came back? I was different, but I was fine after a little while," he paused, eyes staring into some distant past before he added softly. "Because Buffy saved me."

"I've gotta save him?" Dawn asked, voice tiny.

"Yeah," he nodded.

"So opening the portal wasn't enough, there's more?" the tears were clearing from her eyes, voice taking on a cheerier tone.

"There's always more," Angel replied with a smile.

"Oi, Bit! You gonna give your bloke a proper hello or not?"

Dawn looked beyond Angel toward Spike who was steering Wesley in front of him down the rocky corridor. Dawn shot Angel a smile before skirting around him and racing toward Wesley, tripping over rocks as she scrambled towards him. Wesley, seeing that she wasn't angry with him, sped up, almost running towards her. She launched himself into his arms and Spike laughed as he grabbed hold of Wesley as he staggered back under Dawn's weight.

She snuggled into Wesley's shoulder, running her hands over his shoulders and back, then up to push through his hair as she kissed his neck. Wesley squeezed her tight, a little too tightly, but Dawn didn't give a damn.

"Well, there's an improvement," Spike commented to Angel as he approached them. "That was a quick rescue if ever there was one, huh, Pansy?"

"It's not as though there's much to look through and many people to find," Angel replied, ignoring the nickname as he looked around. "There's not much here."

"Mmm," Spike murmured in agreement, leaning his wooden spear against the wall of the rock corridor and slipping his hands into his pocket. "So, Wes, mate, what d'you do for eats round here?"

There was no answer and Spike tried again. He sighed at the answering silence and rolled his eyes at the joyous couple.

"What's a bloke gotta do to get some food around here?"

* * *

><p>Seated on the floor of his cave, Wesley thought how odd it was that he was comfortable. The same floor that gave him bruises when he tried to sleep, suddenly felt soft and yielding with Dawn sitting between his legs, back leaning against his chest. He stroked her hair and kissed her head, aware of her fingers tightening every now and again in his; as though making sure he wasn't going anywhere again.<p>

Angel and Spike sat across from him. Angel nibbling politely at the berries Wesley plucked from a claw like tree three caves down. Spike, however, pulled a face, lip curling in disgust.

"You've been living on this junk?" he asked incredulously, voice echoing in the dim darkness.

"Yes," Wesley shrugged. "Everyone needs food and water, Spike, those have both."

"They taste like crap," Spike mumbled, tossing a handful away, watching them bounce down the cave and out into the purple light.

"Yes, well, this _is_ Hell," Wes answered.

"Exactly, so when are we getting outta here?" he demanded.

"When I can figure out how," Dawn replied.

Angel choked, thumping his chest.

"What?" he asked. "You mean you don't know?"

"I have an idea!" she answered defensively. "It's just needs some tweaking, ok?"

"So, we're stuck here then," Spike sighed. "Bloody brilliant."

"No, we're not stuck here," Dawn said firmly.

"Wes has been here for six months, don't you think he would have found the way out if there was one?" Angel asked delicately.

"Don't -" Spike started, then stopped as Wesley slowly disentangled himself from Dawn and moved to the mouth of the cave.

"Wes?" Dawn asked, scrambling after him.

Spike sighed and stood to follow them, Angel picked up his axe and Dawn's abandoned bag of weapons.

"Nothing here, remember?" Spike said, sneering at the axe.

"Always be prepared," Angel replied, giving him a poke with the axe in the direction of the mouth of the cave.

"You ain't no Boy Scout, Angel, don't pretend to be," Spike chortled. "Ah, great. Where're they going?"

Angel looked in the direction Spike was looking and saw Dawn and Wesley clambering up the gentle incline toward the plateau.

"I don't know," Angel answered, tucking his axe into the bag and heading toward the cliff. "But there's something happening. Can't you feel it?"

"You asking me if I can feel the force?" Spike asked, starting to climb the cliff. "Well, uh, now you mention it. Yeah."

Angel reached the summit first and pulled himself up. Wesley and Dawn were standing in the middle of the plateau, before gently simmering air.

"Bloody hell," Spike muttered. "This really is a popular vacation destination."

"Didn't you give Fred Dawn's notes?" Angel asked, a nervous edge to his voice.

"What? Yeah," he turned his head slowly to meet Angel's eyes. "Oh, bugger. But she wouldn't, would she?"

"Oh, yes she would," Angel nodded, approaching the place the portal was about to open. Spike pulled Dawn back a little, as the portal ripped open.

"English?"

Gunn stared for a moment at Wesley, before grabbing him in a bear hug, mindless of the others falling through the portal after him. Fred, then Andrew and then - to Angel's complete and utter surprise - Buffy. Wesley quickly disappeared beneath hugs and delighted squeals. Buffy was the first to pull away and grab Dawn, hissing something about never scaring her like that again before hugging her. Andrew grabbed Dawn next and Fred pushed past them to launch herself at Spike.

"You idiot!" she cried. "Do you know how scared you had me? I thought we wouldn't get _any_ of you back. Don't you ever do that to me again. Do you understand me? What are you _laughing_ at?"

"Nothing, Slim, nothing at all," he chuckled before kissing her.

Angel watched Gunn pry Andrew from Dawn before Buffy took a step in front of him.

"Hey," she said softly. "So… How come you never let me in on this little escapade?"

"Didn't know about it 'til after I called you," he shrugged. "Why? Were you worried?"

"Well, duh. My sister takes off to another dimension, of course I was worried."

"Oh," he fell silent, smoothing the strap of the weapon bag to avoid her eyes.

"Oh, c'mere, doofus," she laughed and pulled him into a tight hug. "I was worried about all three of you. I was worried about _you_."

"Really?"

She answered him by kissing him impulsively. She blushed when she pulled away, but he took her hand

"Hey, guys. Lorne can't keep this portal open forever," Gunn called. "And there's a party waiting back home."

Fred and Spike stepped through first, then Gunn bundled Andrew through and followed him. Buffy and Angel waited to bring up the rear as Dawn took Wesley's hand and walked through the portal with him.

* * *

><p>He was sleeping soundly, crashed out on one of the couches in Angel's office, pointed party hat askew. She could hear the party going on down the hall, a celebration of the wanderer's return. Apparently they had been gone a day and a half. Thinking about it, it had felt like that long, but she hadn't known it at the time. There were no days in that dimension, only a constantly deep purple sky.<p>

He frowned in his sleep and Dawn caught his hand, shifting beside him to hold him closer as she kissed his brow. Mirages, Andrew told her, were the offered torture of that particular Hell dimension and she shuddered at the very thought.

She smiled as she heard Andrew mangling _She's Like The Wind. _As the song died away, she distantly heard Fred suggesting they get home to bed.

"One more toast!" Gunn protested. "To Wes. And to Dawn, for being so damned stubborn."

She heard a chorus of "To Wes and Dawn!" and smiled, yawning, snuggling against Wesley and closing her eyes.

Wes opened his eyes and watched Dawn doze off. He listened to the party wind down and his friends lurch down the corridor. The door creaked open and they peered in at the couple asleep on the couch.

"Should we wake them and get them home?" Fred asked in a whisper.

"No," Buffy answered.

"Let 'em sleep, Slim," Spike added, closing the door silently.

Wes closed his eyes.

And smiled.


	5. Living With Definition

_**Definition**_  
><strong>Chapter Five: Living With Definition<br>**

Angel and Spike shifted uncomfortably and Wes let them squirm before finally looking up.

"Can I help you?" he asked. "I've got to finish this within the hour. Dawn and I are going away for the weekend."

The vampires exchanged glances and Spike sighed dramatically.

"Look, is there something wrong, Wes?" he asked.

"Great, Spike. Subtle, sensitive," Angel muttered.

"You wanna do the asking, Angel?" Spike asked, waving his hand to indicate he was letting Angel take over.

"Uh, Wes," Angel started. "You've been back a month now and we - Spike and I - were wondering… how you're doing?"

"Fine," Wes answered, but his head bowed over his work quickly and Angel edged closer, sitting down slowly and silently.

"Don't believe you," Spike said bluntly, sitting down. "You've been trawling the archives, Wes. You've been going through other dimensional accounts of the Hell you were in. What's the fascination?"

"Nothing," Wes said evasively. At Spike and Angel's disbelieving looks, he sighed. "The screamers," he admitted. "I couldn't settle thinking that there were more people there. I know it didn't look like much, but feeling that alone, that isolated for so long with those apparitions… I couldn't abandon others to the same fate."

"You going back then?" Spike asked, lip curling into a sneer.

"No," Wes looked toward them. "The other dimensional accounts were more in depth than the accounts from this dimension. Apparently, everyone who was ever there was driven mad by the apparitions. They all died; I'm not clear how. The screams are echoes. I thought there were other people there. But I was alone."

There was a long silence. Wes was staring into middle distance, a faraway expression on his face. Angel shifted uncomfortably and Spike was watching Wes intently.

"So you're not going back there?" Spike asked.

"No," Wes shook his head, smiling slightly. "I'm not."

"Wes, are you ready? C'mon, I'm all packed!" Dawn bounded into the room, in jeans and sweater. She had a backpack slung over her shoulder, a helmet in each hand. She placed the black helmet on the work Wes had before him and hugged the red one to her chest.

"I've got to finish this, sweetheart," Wes answered, shifting the helmet to one side and trying to focus on the work in front of him.

"I told you he wouldn't be ready yet," Buffy sighed, coming into the office with Fred.

Dawn was bobbing on the balls of her feet and Buffy and Fred exchanged glances before settling into their partners' embraces.

"Wes, I'm sure it can wait 'til Monday," Angel offered.

"I wanted Gunn to go over this before I go," Wes said slowly, frowning at the contract he was working on.

"Yeah, well, he can't," Dawn said. "He just left with Andrew. They're going to a club."

"A club?" Angel, Buffy and Spike cried as Fred erupted into giggles.

"Andrew? A club?" Angel looked terrified at the very thought. "But he can't…y'know, _move_."

"And Gunn," Buffy giggled. "I know he was cool once, but can you imagine him doing the bump an' grind with some girl in that suit!"

Dawn shrugged, shooting the others a frown.

"It's about time those two found girlfriends," Dawn said firmly, shooting the two couples pointed looks.

Angel and Buffy glanced at their intertwined hands and pulled away momentarily. Spike, however, yanked Fred into his arms and planted a firm kiss on her cheek.

"Wesley!" Dawn wailed, waving her helmet in the air when Wes still didn't move. "You're wasting precious alone time!"

"Wes, mate, will you get your behind off that chair and out the door, for God's sake!" Spike cried.

With a heavy sigh, Wes dropped the pencil, methodically neatened the sheets of paper and closed the folder around it. He sat for a second, before cracking into a wide grin; he leapt out of the chair, grabbed hold of Dawn and threw her over his shoulder. She shrieked as he grabbed his helmet and carried her to the door of the office.

"We'll see you Monday!" he called.

And to the shrieks of "Put me down, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce!" Dawn and Wesley disappeared, their voices evaporating as the doors of the elevator closed on them.

"Alone time," Spike mused. "Is that what they're calling it these days? In my day, they called it a dirty weekend."

* * *

><p>"You never whisk me off on a motorbike," Fred said softly, curling closer to Spike in the lamplight.<p>

"I've not been in a Hell dimension for six months," Spike answered, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Have you got any idea how stereotypical that is?" Fred sat up and pointed to the cigarette in Spike's hand. "The post-coital cigarette."

"Well, someone's gotta live the movie moment," he shrugged. "And it may as well be me."

Fred rolled her eyes, pulled the cigarette away from him, and took a small puff.

"What?" she asked at his expression. "Didn't anyone ever tell you relationships are about sharing? Besides, I did some weed in high school."

"You really are full of surprises," he laughed, sitting up, taking the cigarette back and stubbed it out.

"I wish I was full of Chinese," she sat up and grabbed her pyjamas from the floor. She slid into them as she got out of bed and grabbed the pile of menus from the dressing table.

She bit her lip as she looked at them and Spike stubbed out the cigarette and pulled on his jeans. He left the bedroom of their apartment and hopped across the cold tiled floor of kitchen to the refrigerator.

"This floor is freezing!" he cried, hopping from one foot to the other as he opened the fridge and pulled out a beer.

"You say that every time," Fred called.

He came back into the bedroom and jumped onto the bed, covering his feet with an aggrieved pout. She laughed and turned her attention back to the menus.

"What do you fancy?" she asked.

"You," he replied, smirking.

"You know what I mean," Fred said, but she smiled and blushed anyway. "What about Thai? Or pizza, infinite possibilities there. Or we could try that new sushi place down the street."

Spike stared at her as she tailed off and ran her finger down the list. Spike watched her for a moment. Her finger twirled a curl around her finger, then smoothed her pyjama top.

Since getting back from the Hell dimension, Spike had spent most nights at Fred's apartment. And, at Dawn's insistence, he stopped leading her on and made a decision.

And looking at her now, remembering how concerned she had been about him when he was in the Hell dimension, he thought he had made the right choice.

"I love you, Slim," he said in a low voice.

Her head snapped round to stare at him and the menus shook for a moment in her hands. Her face broke into that wide smile of hers and she sat on the bed beside him, shifting back under his arm.

"Ditto," she answered, giggling a little.

He smiled at her and kissed her nose.

"So," she said. "Thai?"

* * *

><p>Buffy gave Wesley's office a quick glance, checked the templates remained untouched on their table, the vault was shut and no weapons were missing. Satisfied, she turned off the light and shut the door.<p>

She walked over to Harmony's desk and leaned on it, smiling at Harmony who was staring intently at the computer screen.

"Harmony, you can go now," she said, when Harmony didn't reply, Buffy sighed and leaned forward to look at the screen.

"Hey!" Harmony protested.

"Oh, my God! Demon porn, Harmony?" Buffy screeched, backing away and covering her eyes. "What possessed Angel to keep you on?"

"My good looks and personality!" Harmony replied, quickly shutting down the computer. "And it's not my fault if there's nothing preventing me accessing… Demon dating sites. And my shift's finished, I don't have to take this abuse!"

And with that, Harmony grabbed her things and stalked furiously towards the elevator.

"What's going on?"

Buffy turned to face Angel.

"Harmony was surfing demon porno websites," Buffy explained.

Angel stared at her, blinked and shook his head.

"Well, if it keeps her quiet," he shrugged. "So… you, uh, you coming back to my place? There might be a movie or something…"

"Sounds good," Buffy nodded, slipping an arm around his waist and leaning against him.

Angel put his arm around her shoulders and together they walked toward the elevator. Once inside, Buffy tip toed to kiss him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pushing him into the wall.

When they broke apart, Angel was frowning.

"What?" Buffy asked.

"What does demon porn _look_ like?" he asked, expression stuck between horror and morbid curiosity.

"Angel!"

* * *

><p>Dawn yawned and snuggled closer to Wesley, staring across his chest at the window. The waning moon hung shone silver light through the window, illuminating the tiny motel room in shades of black, white and grey.<p>

"You think they'd mind if we never, ever went back?" she asked.

"I think Buffy will go mad with worry if we're an hour late back on Sunday," Wesley chuckled.

"But we'd never know," Dawn answered. "We could just get on the bike and drive wherever we want. Never have to worry about anything ever again."

"And when the money runs out and we're starving and you've seen a pair of shoes that are to _die_ for?"

She tapped him lightly on the chest.

"You're not supposed to be serious," she admonished. "You're supposed to play along."

"I'm sorry. Yes, driving wherever we want. Nights in motels. Wonderful."

"Ok," she relented, rolling onto her back. "So I'd miss LA."

"And Buffy."

"And Andrew."

"And Spike and Fred. Gunn and Lorne too."

"My office."

"The work."

"The stationary cupboard," she shot him a wry smile.

"Yes," he agreed. "Some of my best memories are of that stationary cupboard. I've ever got the paper cuts to prove it."

"You love it," she laughed.

"Yes. But not as much as I love you," he traced a finger along her stomach and glanced up at her.

"You are unbelievably sappy," she said. "But I love you."

They lay in silence for a while.

"I missed you," Dawn whispered after a moment. "Have I ever told you that? I missed you _so_ much."

"I missed you too," he replied quietly.

"I just keep thinking what would have happened if I had given up. If I never tried to find you. Thank God Lilah Morgan showed up."

"Lilah Morgan?" Wes asked, looking up at her with a frown.

"Dead lawyer," Dawn explained. "She seemed to know you, but she said you didn't know her. Perhaps you knew her in some other dimension?"

"Well, whatever the reason, it's a good thing she came to you. Or I might have been stuck there longer."

"Or forever," Dawn whispered, horror evident in her voice.

"Does it matter?" he asked. "I'm here now, that's all that counts. I'm here, you're here and we don't have to think about anything 'til Monday."

"True," she nodded. "So… are you tired?"

He grinned.

"Not a bit."

* * *

><p><strong><em>The End.<em>**


End file.
